And when he arrived, Damayantí knew of it, having heard the wonderful noise of the chariot, and she inly rejoiced, as she suspected that Nala had come too. And she sent her own maid to find out the truth, and she enquired into it, and came back and said to her mistress, who was longing for her beloved lord; “Queen, I have enquired into the matter; this king of Kośala heard a false report of your Svayamvara and has come here, and he has been driven here in one day by Hrasvabáhu his charioteer and cook, who is famous for his skill in managing chariots. And I went into the kitchen and saw that cook. And he is black and deformed, but possesses wonderful powers. It is miraculous that water gushed up in his pots and pans, without being put in, and wood burst into flames of its own accord, without having been lighted,[24] and various cates were produced in a moment. After I had seen this great miracle, I came back here.” When Damayantí heard this from the maid, she reflected—“This cook, whom the fire and the water obey, and who knows the secret of chariot-driving, can be no other than my husband, and I suspect he has become changed and deformed on account of separation from me, but I will test him.” When she had formed this resolve, she sent, by way of stratagem, her two children with that same maid, to shew them to him. And Nala, when he had seen his children and taken them on his knees after a long separation, wept silently with a flood of tears. And he said to the maid—“I have two children like these in the house of their maternal grandfather, I have been moved to sorrow by recollecting them.” The maid returned with the children and told all to Damayantí, and then she conceived much hope.
And early the next day she gave her maid this order; “Go and tell that cook of Ṛituparṇa’s from me; ‘I hear that there is no cook like you in the world, so come and prepare curry for me to-day.’” When the maid communicated to Nala this politic request, he got leave from Ṛituparṇa and came to Damayantí. And she said, “Tell me the truth; are you the king Nala disguised as a cook? I am drowned in a sea of anxiety, and you must to-day bring me safe to shore.” When Nala heard that, he was full of joy, love, grief and shame, and with downcast face, he spoke, in a voice faltering from tears, this speech suited to the occasion,—“I am in truth that wicked Nala, hard as adamant, who in his madness behaved like fire in afflicting you.” When he said this, Damayantí asked him—“If it is so, how did you become deformed?” Then Nala told her the whole of his adventures, from his making friends with Kárkoṭaka to the departure of Kali from him. And immediately he put on the pair of garments called the “fire-bleached,” given him by Kárkoṭaka, and recovered on the spot his own original shape.
When Damayantí saw that Nala had resumed his own charming form, the lotus of her face quickly expanded, and she quenched, as it were, with the waters of her eyes the forest-fire of her grief, and attained indescribable unequalled happiness. And Bhíma, the king of Vidarbha, quickly heard that intelligence from his joyful attendants, and coming there he welcomed Nala, who showed him becoming respect, and he made his city full of rejoicing. Then king Ṛituparṇa was welcomed with the observance of all outward courtesy and every hospitable rite[25] by king Bhíma, who in his heart could not help laughing, and after he had in return honoured Nala, he returned to Kośala. Then Nala lived there happily with his wife, describing to his father-in-law his outburst of wickedness due to the influence of Kali. And in a few days he returned to Nishada with the troops of his father-in-law, and he humbled his younger brother Pushkara, beating him by his knowledge of dice, but, righteous as he was, he gave him a share of the kingdom again, after Dvápara had left his body, and glad at having recovered Damayantí, he enjoyed his kingdom lawfully.
When the Bráhman Sumanas had told this story to the princess Bandhumatí in Tárápura, whose husband was away, he went on to say to her—“Even thus, queen, do great ones, after enduring separation, enjoy prosperity, and following the example of the sun, after suffering a decline, they rise again. So you also, blameless one, shall soon recover your husband returning from his absence; use patient self-control, banish grief, and console yourself with the approaching gratification of your wishes in the return of your husband.” When the virtuous Bráhman had spoken these appropriate words, she honoured him with much wealth, and taking refuge in patience, she remained there awaiting her beloved. And in a few days her husband Mahípála returned, with his father, bringing that mother of his from a distant land. And when he returned, furnishing a feast to all eyes, he gladdened Bandhumatí, as the full moon gladdens the lovely water of the ocean. Then Mahípála, on whom her father had already devolved the burden of the kingdom, enjoyed as a king desired pleasures with her.
When prince Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, had heard in the company of his wife, from the mouth of his minister Marubhúti, this matchless romantic story, pleasing on account of its picture of affection, he was exceedingly pleased.
[1] I. e. earth-protector, king.
[2] Compare for the idea Richard II. Act III, Sc. 2. line 41 and ff.
[3] Here I have omitted a short story.
[4] He seems to correspond to the Junker Voland or Herr Urian of the Walpurgisnacht; (see Bayard Taylor’s notes to his translation of Goethe’s Faust). See also, for the assembly of witches and their uncanny president, Birlinger, Aus Schwaben, pp. 323 and 372. In Bartsch’s Sagen &c. aus Meklenburg, pp. 11—44, will be found the recorded confessions of many witches, who deposed to having danced with the Teutonic Bhairava on the Blocksberg. The Mothers of the second part of Faust probably come from Greece.